Poem: the poisoned apple

they say you never sleep,

yet you’re full of dreams.

you’re a mosaic of blinding lights,

each piece of you gleaming 

in the spotlight, you know so well.

a flash of red, yellow and green

i look into your kaleidoscope 

of traffic lights;

it hypnotizes me.

i’m addicted to your highlight reel

of glamour and neon nights;

your unreliable promise of 

fulfilled dreams.

i’m enraptured by the content i read 

written across your skyline,

but i’m the one in the byline.

you’re the type people write songs about,

but, tell me:

are you the concrete jungle

where dreams are made of,

or are you the boulevard 

of broken dreams?

are you really what they call you,

or are you the poisoned apple,

perhaps the forbidden fruit?

are you the promising traffic glow

telling me to go,

or are you the deceiving green light

at the tip of Daisy’s dock?

i crave your euphoria,

i crave your enigma,

even if you are an empire state

of backlogged ambition.

so promise me,

with that unreliable word of yours,

that you’re not the poisoned one.